#michael fletcher

[cometjuice]

meeting the in-laws i chose violence for my warm up today

[iamrizaka]

As much as I love the idea of Will wearing Lee's flannel after his death, I much more prefer a scenario where he was constantly trying to steal it when Lee wasn't looking. Lee got fed up with this gremlin child (affectionate) trying to steal his clothes (he knows that he should toss it out, burn it, but he can't bring himself to do it; it holds way too many memories) so he gets a green flannel and embroiders it with little sun symbols.

He hides it in one of the secret rooms in the infirmary, because he can't have any of his siblings – or worse, a spy – stumble across it in his cabin. He leaves it here and makes a promise to give it to Will on his birthday.

Over a year later, Will tries to find a place to hide – no one should see their head counselor and head medic cry. He finds this room and remembers the talks about it and how it was one of Lee and Luke's secret hideouts. He wants to leave; he doesn't need another memory of what it was and what it could've been. But his gut tells him to enter and he finds a neatly packaged box.

There's a green flannel and a note:

For my little brother, Will

— Lee

P.S. stop stealing my clothes!

He never takes it off.

[mediumgayitalian]

A whisp of hair tickles his cheek, following the elbow resting on his shoulder. Lee glances over as Cass swipes the strands back behind her ear.

“So,” she says, very nearly dropping her plate. Lee reaches over and gently tilts it back upright. His sister Does Not notice.

He lets it fall. She doesn’t notice that, either. Rest in peace, Stale Piece of Olive Bread, Single Grape, and Sprig of Parsley (?). You will be missed.

“So,” Lee repeats. He follows her eyes, gaze landing on a frizzy mess of blond curls and vacant blue eyes. “…Ah. So.”

Cass’s fork twirls in the general direction of their new baby brother. Several other people in line at the braziers also look over to where she’s pointing, glance obviously back towards the two of them, leaning close, and then pretend to look away while very clearly straining to hear. What a place, Camp Half-Blood.

“We gotta fix that.”

Lee grunts. She’s right — rarely does he ever see a kid Will’s age so blasé and sad about camp for so long.

But.

The circumstances.

“We already talked to Luke, Cass.”

She waves a hand. Her fork very nearly misses his eye. Lee would like, for once, if she could maybe use perhaps one ounce of her prophetic abilities to be less of a klutz. “Eh, Luke doesn’t know everything. There’s gotta be something he didn’t try, something Will likes. I mean, I think I saw the barest little hint of a smile when Diana was cussing Michael out yesterday.”

“Achlys would smile at that,” Lee argues. “I mean, come on. He got flamed. It was embarrassing.”

“Fair, fair.”

Lee looks back at Will. He still sits at the edge of the Apollo picnic table, chin on the worn-smooth wood, poking vaguely at the food Diana got for him. There’s a decent spread — some of the roast chicken, some of the lemon potatoes, probably more vegetables than any eight year old would be willing to eat, but it’s not like they would know. Will barely eats anything. If it weren’t for the Twizzlers that keep disappearing from Lee’s stash under the floorboards, he would’ve stuck the kid on an IV already. It’s been weeks.

“We could maybe try the weapons rounds again,” Cass murmurs. “I know Luke did it on intake, but maybe —”

She glances over, peeking through the edge of her hair, and cuts herself off, mouth furrowing as she bites the inside of her cheek. The son of Hermes in question leans on one of his younger siblings, grinning as they shriek and complain, laughing as another kid empties out what looks like the entire camp stash of cutlery from her pockets. Lee’s not dumb — he saw the difference, too. There’s no demigod more kind and welcoming and determined than Luke Castellan, Lee knows it, Lee’s experienced it, but —

When Will came up Half-Blood Hill, he was sobbing. He scratched four other demigods trying to squirm his way back to where his mother was running back to her car, shoulders heaving with her own cries, face-tear streaked and laden with guilt as she watched him go. When Will was dragged to the Big House, he was there ‘til nightfall. When Will was placed, as all are, in Hermes, he didn’t leave the cabin for days.

Camp doesn’t usually see that. Luke doesn’t usually see that. And as much as the guy has seen everything, there’s nothing he can handle less than a demigod who desperately wants to go home.

It’s not something anyone brings up.

“We’ll give it a go after dinner,” Lee agrees.

It’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing. It might help to get a tour of what Camp offers by someone a little more…qualified. Or enthusiastic, rather. Will’s eight, after all. What kind of eight-year-old doesn’t want to swing a real sword at a training dummy? Or, hell, at another eight-year-old? Not that there are many other eight-year-olds at camp this lovely April, but Annabeth is like…ten. Lee thinks. Eleven? Something like that. Maybe she’ll swing a sword around with the kid. She only tends to be lethal when someone is doubting her. She’ll probably be very lenient on someone who is just learning.

Well.

Like, one would hope.

Whatever. It’ll sort itself out.

He repeats it to himself as he sits down, plastering a wide smile on his face and meeting Will’s eyes. Will stares back, eyes big and dead, but Lee refuses to look away first, to look down. Eventually Will return his gaze to the brown mush he’s made out of his plate.

“Hi,” he hedges.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Will hums. From beside him, Diana sighs — that is the extent of what they usually get. A little more, actually. The hi was slightly more animated than usual. More like a single two-by-four than a rotting corpse, in terms of spirited greetings.

If Lee is anything, though, it’s annoying and persistent. It’s actually what led to his getting claimed last winter.

“You get something to drink?”

Will shrugs. Lee glances into his cup to see that he has not, in fact, gotten anything to drink.

“They’re enchanted, you know.” He taps his own cup. “Anything you ask for, you get. I get Green Apple Kool-Aid.”

“‘Cus you’re a freak,” Michael mutters. Lee shoves him off the table.

Will scrunches his nose. “…Enchanted cups?”

The look he levels in Lee’s direction is equivalent, he imagines, to the look the jury gave OJ Simpson on his first foray of the witness stand, but the allure of discontinued novelty drinks must be stronger than his suspicion, because he tilts his cup closer to him, thinks for a minute, and then says, “Coke.”

All three of them hold their breath. Even Michael, who is recovering from his recent trip to the ground. The cup slowly fills with sparkling amber liquid.

Will frowns.

“Hey,” he says, something akin to a pout taking over his face, “I asked for coke.”

The drink stops fizzing. It, too, seems to regard the young boy in confusion.

“That would indeed be Coke,” Diana says eventually.

Will scowls. (It is, probably unfortunately for him, a little bit adorable, because his cheeks are very pudgy and he has quite a lot of freckles and his whole face seems to scrunch with the movement. Like a baby hippo. Lee tries really very hard not to smile but it’s something of a losing battle, he thinks.)

“It gave me cola!”

Lee looks at Cass. Cass looks at Lee. Cass looks at Michael, then, and Lee looks at Diana, and they all kind of look at each other and envision the words what the fuck floating between them in wavy comic sans.

“That would be the case,” tries Michael. Lee can see that he tries very hard not to tack ‘you dumbass’ on the end there. Lee pats him on the shoulder in recognition for his efforts.

“I asked for coke!”

“Okay, let’s maybe back up a bit,” Cass thankfully says, before Lee can utter his very eloquent ‘huh’. “What are you asking for, hun?”

“Coke!”

“No, I — I, uh, I got that part.” She purses her lips very thoughtfully. “Are you thinking of, maybe, Diet Coke?”

“No! Regular orange coke!”

“Okay,” mutters Diana. “Okay, awesome, I love it when everything makes sense.”

“Orange coke!” insists Will again. And, like, yeah, they brought this on themselves. When Lee scraped off a portion of his food and prayed for more emotion from Will, he did not specify. He was under the unfortunate misconception that his father loved him and was not a sociopathic genie. That’s on him. But still. “The fruity one! With the orange lid an’ the F on the bottle an’ not the one with no bubbles! The coke one!”

“Are you thinking maybe of Fanta?” Cass says, finally. She makes a weird shape with her fingers. “Odd bottle shape? Neon?”

“Yes!” exclaims Will, visibly relieved. “The orange coke! The good one!”

The cup quickly ripples and changes into a liquid the approximate colour of their shirts, only harder to look at. Will narrows his eyes, drags it over, dips his tongue into it, and then lights up, chugging it down with the zeal and zest Aphrodite kids do cranberry juice.

“One thing they got right up here,” he says happily, wiping the sticky moustache off his top lip. He, for the first time, looks a little less like there is a giant aching hole in the centre of him.

All at once, Lee remembers the one time his mother took him with her to one of her conferences, deep down in Arkansas. They stopped for Wendy’s on the drive. Lee requested Coke. The cashier asked ‘what kind’. Lee stared blankly at her for a total of at least seventeen solid seconds before replying ‘uh, the…Coke…kind?’ and received a large disappointing cup of Sprite.

“Oh my gods,” he says. He now knows, he feels, at least an approximation of the shock Phaethon felt that one time. “You’re Texan.”

None of his siblings share in the euphoria of this realization. This eureka moment, really. Least of all Will, who seems to be wondering if he can, perhaps, put in a request to be claimed by another god with smarter children.

“Lee,” says Cass gently, “have you gotten dumber?”

“No, no, he’s Texan,” Lee repeats. “They’re like. They say weird shit down there.” He gestures at Will, who is rapidly shifting from bewildered to offended. Lee would feel bad if it wasn’t a little bit funny. “Coke means pop. Fixin’ means intending. Might could — actually, I’m not sure what might could means, and at this point I’m too afraid to ask.”

“It means might could!” Will cries. He throws his hands up in exasperation which would be better conveyed where his hands not still pudgy enough to have the little indents on the knuckles. Lee melts to the actual floor. “That’s like askin’ — askin’ what ‘the’ means! It means ‘the’!”

“Oh my gods,” breathes Diana, hand pressed to her mouth. “Oh my gods, he’s adorable.”

“What does ‘might could’ mean, he says! Nex’ thing I’mma hear’s gonna be some stupid Yank quest’n ‘bout y’all, I bet —”

There is a thump as Michael slides right off the bench. This time, Lee doesn’t even need to push him.

“Yank,” he wheezes, from the floor. There are real tears in his eyes. “You’re my favourite, kid, holy fuck —”

Will stomps his little foot. It’s so — tiny. Bite sized. The lights in the sole twinkle like crazy. He’s got Princess Leia on the heels.

Lee is going to melt into goo.

“Who authorized him to be this goddamn cute,” Lee whisper-yells. “Like, genuinely. Look at him.

“Believe me, I’m looking,” Cass says, smiling softly. She knocks their shoulders together, snorting as Will chokes on his own indignity, hollering something about and there’s no such thing as healthy brisket! how about that! til’ his freckly face glows.

“Oh, wait, shit, that’s real,” Lee says. “That’s — yo, he’s actually bioluminescing. Are you seeing this? I am seeing this.”

“Didn’t know that was something we could do,” Diana comments. She grabs her cup, empties it into Michael’s (making a truly — truly — rank concoction of milk and Mountain Dew, Lee physically recoils) and stares at it until it refills.

“Hey, Glowstick.”

Will freezes. The most affronted look Lee has ever seen on a child scrunches his squishy face. Cass coos. Michael starts cackling again.

“Who are you talking to,” Will demands, scowling.

Diana looks at him. She raises her eyebrows.

“You tell me, Johnny Storm.”

“That’s a — that’s a bad reference!”

“Just — here.” Diana slides over the cup before Will can get started again. “Here’s your coke, kid.”

Will squints at the cup for several seconds. Diana holds it out dutifully. Well, for a dutiful seven seconds before her arm gets tired, then she sets it down and moves her hand away.

“Mama says I’m not allowed two cokes in a row,” he says finally.

Lee glances over at Cass. She grimaces back.

Here we go.

Diana just blinks.

“What does your Mama say about throwing stones at people named Clarisse from the roof of the Big House?”

“She never mentioned.”

“Well, we’re allowed to do that here. The rules say you can have two cokes, too, if you want.”

Will screws up his face. He gnaws on his bottom lip. Lee holds his breath.

Finally, he takes the tiniest of little sips.

“I guess two cokes is kind of nice,” he says.

Lee smiles. He reaches over, paying close attention in case Will’s a biter — you never know at Camp Half-Blood — and ruffles the kid’s frizzy curls.

“Some good things about camp, huh?”

Will huffs. “It’s still not great.” He sets his cup down. His soda moustache sits at a firm handlebar. Cass muffles a snort in her hands. “But not bad for a bunch of Yanks.”

Lee decides that he will take that. A stubborn, sarcastic Will is better than a miserable one. They got time. They’ll get there.

Plus, when Michael takes a mindless sip of his Surprise Concoction and sprays it all over Diana’s face, hacking and cussing up a storm, Will even smiles.

Yeah. They might even get there soon.

[pain-is-too-tired]

Apollo kids not getting cold easily,but the colder it is the more tired they get.

Winter mean less sunlight and more generating thier own heat. So they very tired during winter months.

Nico finding Will fast asleep in one of the infirmary chairs

Jake dragging Michael to his cabin to rest with a sun lamp

Lee falling asleep on Luke's shoulder during campfires

Etc.

Just,smol moments of Apollo kids getting taken care of during the eepy months.

[owlch333]

Cabin Counselors (Version 2025!)

[telephonedear]

whatever you do, don’t think about how apollo is the god of both healing and music, so one of the loudest sounds during the battle of manhattan was probably that of apollo children singing hymns. trying to heal their companions. their voices raspy from overuse, choked from tears, barely audible as they ran out of breath. the tower was probably full of two main sounds- crying and singing. running down the street, you’d probably hear their lovely voices singing songs of death, fighting a war against not only kronos but thanatos, doing whatever it took to save.

[mrsoftthoughts]

Both Aphrodite and Apollo cabins are popular in camp half-blood for being full of pretty people, both cabins campers have the reputation of being the most attractive persons in miles around without exaggerating

But also a general concense is that the beauty of the two cabins is pretty much different

Apollo "the most beautiful among the gods"always was represented as a kouros his image was the perfection of a young man, the top of the bar when is about a standard

And just like their father Apollo kids often are sort kind of standar

They are an ideal of what is supposed to be attractive, being always aligned to what is the hegemony of beauty, obviously that doesn't mean that all of them are "perfect" is comun that one of two things slip out the parameters, their dad is also a very artistic god and what's art wihout breaking some limitations? but the point remains, they're attractive to almost everyone because they are what you always heard is supposed to be beautiful

Aphrodite, in the other hand, is the goddess of love and beauty as concepts , something so fluid and free to interpretation and we see that with her, because she's not an standar, an standar is closed and pretty well known, she is the beauty itself donw your ideas of it always changing because to no one she would be exactly the same

And their kids also are like their Mother, changing and indescriptible

their faces are always beautiful down what its their own idea of beauty, but for you they would look a little bit as your own ideals, and even if they weren't your type you can't deny that it's something magnetic around them, it's not just the beautiful looks but also pure incarnated Beauty that no words can describe.

[batcavescolony]

I have a head canon that before he was mortal Apollo is an ok parent by godly standards. He has a lot of kids, they seem like they aren't angry towards him and he knows most of his kids in TOA even though he can't remember much else. It's like He's full of himself but that carries over to his kids. He's the center of the universe, perfect, amazing, the literal sun. His kids half of him so they're ALSO perfect, amazing, talented and the best. I really can't think of a Apollo kid that went to Luke's side so I think it's cus they know exactly where they stand with their godly parent. Obviously he's still a God so he wasn't like at their little league games but his cabin knows he thinks about them.

[thestarstoasun]

Sometimes I think about 10 yr old Will Solace taking care of Lee when his older brother was sick with the help of his other siblings. Will placing his hands on Lee's head about to ease the pain of a migraine before Michael tells him off for it, and telling him about them still needing to heal from sickness like mortals.

Then a year later after the Battle of the Labyrinth, Will has his hands on Lee's head desperately trying to convince himself his older brother can be saved - that he's doing more than just healing dead flesh despite the sickening feeling his healing is causing in place of the usual warmth. Michael once again pulls him away, but this time, there are tears in the new Cabin 7 Head's eyes. "He's gone, Will. You aren't doing anything but exhausting yourself. C'mon, bud." It was probably the most gentle Will had ever heard Michael Yew.

[freddie-77-ao3]

lee: you're grounded! no dessert for a week! Michael: WE DON'T EVER HAVE DESSERT! Lee: WELL WE WILL T H I S WEEK

[frozenrose20]

I love the name Lester Papadopoulos its so silly but could you imagine is Zeus gave Apollo a name like Lee Yew or Michael Fletcher as a way to taunt him for his failures and so everytime some one says his name he is reminded of his sons he didn't save. Imagine when they first get to camp and Meg is insistent in calling him his fake name because she finds it funny and failing to notice how the campers physically recoil at hearing those names again.

[cometjuice]

Brothers

Lee, Michael, and Will. I always thought Michael was heavily into the emo scene as a teen, due to his anger issues and height. He pierced his own ear and lip, and tried to do his tongue but Lee stopped him. Will thinks his older bother is the coolest ever and wants him to pierce his ears.

[thaoriginalg]

My designs for the apollo cabin wooooo!

(Feel free to criticize for my art lol i wont get hurt)

(I'm making the big three kids next)

[mediumgayitalian]

The funniest thing about the whole ordeal is that he sits by the window, mooning.

Like a Victorian maiden.

"Stop teasing," Cass scolds, visibly choking back laughter. "He's -- little."

"He's down bad facetious," Lee argues. He gestures to Will's feet, which are -- and he cannot emphasize enough -- swinging back and forth. He even --

Gods.

He is twirling his hair.

Cass lets a bubble of laughter through, clamping her hand over her mouth.

"Oh my gods," she says, shoulders shaking. "It's so cute, I'm gonna --"

Will sighs to himself. Deep, long, lovesick; it takes everything in Lee's body not to join Cass on the floor, holding himself to limit the shaking. She keeps her head carefully bowed but even then Lee can see the tears streaming down her face.

"Goober," Lee calls, tongue in his cheek, "what the hell are you doing."

Will startles. He goes, quite immediately, startlingly, pomegranate red, sliding a worn journal against his chest and out of sight. Only, he misses, because he's a klutz, and launches the journal halfway across the cabin, narrowly avoiding smacking Cass clean across the face.

For a moment, there is nothing.

Stillness.

Silence.

Lee glances over at the journal. Will holds his breath. Lee moves his hand, ever so slightly.

They bolt at the same time.

"Nothing!" Will shouts, diving for the book. He is, unfortunately, a pipsqueak, and easily lifted to the side and dropped, screeching and clawing, on Michael's top bunk. "Nothing, nothing, I'm doing nothing --"

"If you're doing nothing, then it's fine if I look," reasons Lee, knowing that if he kept a diary and any of his rat ass siblings tried looking through it he'd kill himself. "Just blank pages, right?"

Will lunges, but Lee is stronger than he is, and his arms are longer. He plants a hand on his squishy face and holds him there, struggling, arms scrabbling for the journal, Cass's wheezing echoing through the largely empty cabin.

"Cass! Tell him -- tell him to give it back --"

Cass looks up, maybe, to tell him off, but she sees Will's squished, roan face and loses her shit all over again. This time she doesn't even bother staying on her knees, she hits the full, total ground, clutching her stomach, tears streaming down her face, choking in agony.

Lee flips open the book.

Will screams.

"Dearly beloved," Lee reads, voice trembling. Will claws at him. In what is, perhaps, divine intervention, the scratch marks disappear as quickly as Will makes them, glowing a soft gold. Will screams again. "We are gathered here today --"

There is laughter, and arguing, outside, and Lee pauses. Will stops struggling. His face drops. He whips toward the window, faster than Lee can even think of stopping him, and brings his clasped hands to his face, head bowed, and begins rapidly to pray:

"Dad, please, if you love me, smite them all, please, do not let them come in, turn off their ears, please, I promise I will scrape off every brownie I get for the next fifty years if you --"

But it is for naught. Because in a great, energized gaggle, the rest of their siblings pile through the door: Michael, scrabbling at Diana's flexed arm, flailing his way out her head headlock; Kate and Pheobe, heads bent over a script; Melody, Mercury, and Leanna, harmonizing over Michael's cursing; Gabriel and Laurel, tossing a basketball back and forth; and, finally, Amir, trailing quietly behind them, bow in hand.

They spill out onto the giant carpet by the door, and pause.

Lee clears his throat.

"--to celebrate the union of --" His voice wavers. Will shrieks, lunging again, but Kate in Phoebe are faster, lunging forward and grabbing one arm each.

"Oh, no you don't," says Kate, grinning, and Phoebe, unusually bold, pokes his ribs until he stops squirming, snickering to herself.

Lee continues.

"-- Nico di Angelo and Will Solace, in the sight of -- oh for fuck's sake, capital-G God -- to join them in holy matrimony."

Will puts his pudgy little hands over his face and yells. He begins, ever so, to glow, like he does when he's healing, and it is the perfect moment to set everyone off: several of their siblings join Cass on the floor, who, at this point, looks genuinely unwell, and several more -- mostly the girls -- rush forward to hang off Michael's bunk, cooing at poor Will, who glares at Lee with all the vitriol his ten-and-three-quarters body can muster.

"I hate you," he croaks. "You are -- the worst brother ever --"

"I'm just trying to have it memorized," Lee says solemnly, "you know, so I can recite and when you and Nico get --"

There is a quick, painful flash. For a moment, Lee is genuinely blind -- his eyes are open, he can feel the air of them on his drying sclera, but he can see nothing but pure, white light -- and it takes a solid minute of blinking to get anything back in front of him, even if it's blurry.

The first thing he sees is Will, off the bunk, with the journal in his hands.

The second thing he sees is Amir, quick and quiet, poised behind him.

"I don't even like him," Will says hotly, "I'm just -- did you know that there are friendship marriages, and --"

Lee meets Amir's eyes and nods. The curve of his oft-stoic mouth incites genuinely glee in Lee's wicked heart, and in a flash their third youngest darts out his deft pianist hands and grabs the journal from Will's hands. Before Will can even shriek, he tosses it across the room, where Laurel catches it, and she sprints across the cabin, scurrying up the wooden support beams, and hangs from the highest rafter. She flips through the pages and opens a new one.

"Oh-hoo-hoo, this one is good," she says evilly, wiggling her fingers. "He even got all the letters right, ahem, Mr. Will di Angelo --"

Will is short, but he's fast and he's slippery, so he's out of Kate's attempted half-Nelson in seconds and ripping across the cabin, spider-monkeying up the beam. Laurel shrieks and tosses the journal to the waiting Gabriel, who slides himself in the spot between his bunk and the wall and flips to a new page.

"It's a drawing!" he reports, delighted. "Aw, man, he even got the shine of his hair on here --"

"All of you hate me!"

"It's cute," Leanna coos, scooping Will up from the ceiling. Laurel damn near cries in relief, dropping down and muttering about evil, punishing little brothers and pointy fingers. Will tries to squirm free but Leanna presses a million exaggerated kisses to his cheeks, to his hair, and on reflex, he leans into them. "Baby's first real crush --"

"I do not have a crush on him!" Will squirms free, eventually, standing on his own -- unmade -- bunk and hollering until his face is read. "I just think he's -- cool, okay, he can control zombies and ghosts and --"

"'Makes your heart flutter?'" Melody suggests. She holds up the journal Gabriel has passed to her and traces her hand over an older page, tapping her electric-blue nails. She clears her throat, upping up her own slight drawl to match Will's heavier one: "'Symptoms: sweaty palms, dizziness, rapid heartbeat, high fever -- potential tachycardia? Or plague. Revisit next appearance.'" She closes the book and grins. "Think you're a touch ahead of yourself, kiddo."

Will, as he always does, chafes at the nickname, snapping a reflexive you're four years older than me! Not even! and crawling under his bed. Belatedly, an arm scrabbles up on his mattress, patting blindly until it makes contact with his pillow -- crumpled into the corner under half a metric ton of stuffed toys -- and drags it down with him, screeching into it.

"All I ever do in this stupid cabin is suffer," he bemoans.

Their siblings, for the large part, ignore his wallowing. More interesting is the journal, that they circle around, flipping through the various drawings and doodles of Nico di Angelo, enigma, and the hearts around every strand of hair.

Lee starts feeling a little bad.

A little.

"Dork," he says, peeking under the bed. Will kicks him. Lee grabs his foot. "Come out."

Will pouts. "No."

"Are you embarrassed?"

"Obviously!"

Lee looks down and sighs. He is eighteen, and feeling every year; his knees, actually, have wear equivalent to that of a seventy-year-old man. Michael checked. Michael could, also, have been lying, because he's a tool, but there was a particular gleam of unbridled glee in his eyes when he reported back so Lee is inclined to believe him.

All this to say: he is too old for this nonsense.

And, yet.

"You have not been sweeping under here," he grumbles, pulling a face at the (numerous) dust bunnies. "You have, like, two chores."

"I have so!"

Will coughs.

Lee sighs and holds out his hand. Will's throat is, indeed, closing up, so he fires off a quick hymn to lower the swelling but leaves it itchy in penance.

"I don't know why you continue to lie to me. Your tell can literally, actually kill you."

Will opens his mouth to lie again. Lee pokes him, hard, in the stomach, and he closes it, choosing instead to scowl.

"Get out of here," he complains. "You smell like dookie and I hate you also."

"I do -- I do not!"

Just in case, Lee sniffs, and he -- well, he doesn't smell like roses, but dookie is an exaggeration and after a moment the little shithead snickers, dodging Lee's pinching fingers. Lee rolls his eyes and scoots closer, crushing him against the wall.

"We're not trying to embarrass you," he tries.

Will scoffs. "Lie!"

"Okay, well, we are a little." Lee turns over and stares until Will meets his eyes. He is relieved to find no genuine hurt in them, only annoyance, and maybe a touch of frustration. He searches for Will's hand and squeezes, holding tighter when someone in the peanut gallery cackles, and Will scowls. "But, like. Embarrassment of love and affection."

"That's not a thing!"

"It is. You know how Diana likes to put a curse of truth on Michael and ask him leading questions about his weird love for Orlando Bloom in public?"

"That's different," Will says after a pause. "Diana only does it to punish him for his crimes."

"Of which there are many," Lee agrees. "But it is the same concept."

"But I'm not evil like Michael!"

"No? It wasn't you and Cecil that rigged Jake Mason's birthday cake to explode last week?"

Will's mouth opens. It closes.

"I will speak no further without an attorney," he decides on, and Lee laughs out loud. Will grins, forgetting his anger, and leans in when Lee curls into him, snorting. Lee presses a kiss to his hair and tugs him even closer.

"We are teasing you because we love you and you are being a massive goofball," he says quietly. He squeezes when he feels Will scowl. "You tease me for crushes and foolishness too, brat. You're just suffering because it's your first time."

"I don't have a crush on him," Will insists, muffled. "...I just think he's cool."

"Right. And all the drawings --"

"Anatomy practice!"

"--and the poems--"

"I can't control those! They just come out!"

"--and the marriage vows --"

"I -- okay. That one -- gimme a second." Will screws up is face, considering. He brightens when the idea comes to him. Lee snorts. "Connor and Travis were telling us about levying the marriage system to benefit you and I think Nico would be a willing participant."

Will beams, proud at his quick thinking, and Lee cannot help but try to crush him a little. Will, used to it, sighs and grumbles and tucks himself smaller so he can fit into the shape of Lee's arms, tights against his chest.

"You -- are -- so goddamn cute, you know that?" Lee says, punctuating every word with a loving poke. "Gods."

Will squirms. "Everyone keeps telling me that. That's why I'm studying Nico. So I can get cooler."

"You're studying Death Boy because you have a big fat embarrassing crush on him."

"No."

"Yes, and it's ridiculous, because you've met him, maybe, twice."

"I have met him three and a half times."

"I don't know what a half is and I'm afraid to ask. Kid, you're whipped."

Will tips his head to rest on Lee's shoulder, groaning. He stays there long enough for the wheezing, riff-raff, and general mischief to quiet, for some of the most hyperactive kids in camp to get bored and move on, poking at another available sibling. Will stays there long enough, breathing heavy, eyes squeezed shut that Lee hears Cass humming as she makes her rounds, tucking in the younger kids, who insist that they are too old for such nonsense but allow it anyway, and brushing her gentle hands on the foreheads of the older kids. She comes to Will's bunk last, kneeling outside of it, matching her breathing to theirs.

"All good?" she whispers, hand coming out to squeeze Lee's shoulder.

Lee nods. "Yeah. Tired out."

He can hear the smile in his sister's voice. "Okay. Don't fall asleep down there, Lee. You'll ache in the morning."

"Won't," Lee promises, knowing full well it's a possibility. Cass snorts, squeezing again, and Lee hears he pad away, pulling back her unreasonable number of comforters -- for a child of the sun god she is always freezing -- and floating off a final night, fireflies.

Lee smiles as all thirteen of them -- including Will, who mouths it silently against Lee's shoulder -- wish her goodnight back.

"I don't." Will makes a quiet, keening noise. "I don't understand why my chest feels so big."

Lee buries his face in coily, tangled hair, breathing deeply.

"You got a big, giant heart," he murmurs. "And Nico needs a friend. I think you, uh, I think you might also have a thing for brown eyes and basket cases, but that's none of my business."

Will giggles tiredly. Lee smiles, holding them close and scooching them gently out from the dusty underbed. His knees, as he correctly assumed, scream when he stands, but Will's little hand is warm in his, and his eyes are cloudy and soft. He is ten years old and too big for it but he reaches his hands up and Lee lifts him, anyway, exhaling at the wrap of his legs and arms around him, at the shift of his head in the crook of his neck. He takes a minute to hold the weight of him, memorizing, before leaning down and easing him onto the softened mattress, tucking the creased, messy sheets around him the way he likes.

"Sweet dreams," he says softly, pressing a kiss to his freckled forehead. He grins. "Of wedding bells, and death-breath smooches."

"Go away."

Will pushes him, scowling sleepily, and Lee lets him, smoothing out his pillow and yawning his way over to his own bunk. He flicks Michael awake in passing just to be a jackass and dives into the bottom mattress, before he realizes, wrapping himself in his blanket and pretending to snore. When Michael has re-settled, muttering mutinously to himself, Lee opens his eyes, squinting over to where Will is curled up, across the cabin, blankets pulled up to his forehead and feet sticking out the other end. He smiles.

He can't wait to bring this up at their wedding, one day.

[pain-is-too-tired]

Fallen into making fake tweets for characters-

[apollocabinrep]

Austin: They only boil for 8 minutes

Kayla: I know it's gonna be undercooked

Kayla: Did you get this video from Tiktok?

Austin: Yeah

Kayla: So I know this food is gonna be undercooked for sure

Lee: Why are you in my kitchen?

Michael: Because I can..bitch

Ethan, about Luke: He's just giving me a bitch look

Lee: That's because he's a bitch

Alabaster: Dead ass look, he's spacing out

Kayla: Shut the fuck up, you ugly oompaloompa

Will: Language!

Kayla: I didn't say anything wrong?

Nico: Yeah you did

Kayla: Huh?

Will: You said, shut the f--k up

Kayla: Oops

Clarisse, hits Annabeth: Shut up

Annabeth: What'd I get hit for? Because I can read!?

Will: Are we good?

Cecil: Mentally? No.

Lou Ellen: Physically? No. Psychologically? Hades no.

Michael: Don't blame me! Your dad is the one that ran you over

Clarisse: And he'd do it again

Michael: He can't

Luke: You want me to run you over?

Yan: This cheese tastes better than it smells

Drew looking at Nyssa: Why are you wearing Halloween pants on Thanksgiving?

Jake knowing she's better off than him: Because she's poor

Connor: You know what I put on my Winter Solstice list? Bill money!

Nico: I thought you said bail money..

Connor: I MIGHT NEED THAT TOO 😭

Jerry: I was trying not to get your feet

Cecil: Oh yeah...not for free